Painted screens smoothly slid apart. Long vibrant trills of flute pierced the joyful sounds of feast. Everyone went quiet when a tall fragile figure of girl appeared in the darkness. Dressed all in white, she waited. Waited until the gentle flow of violin spilt on the sandy rustle of drums. And then she began her dance.

Moving softly on the precious Persian rugs, she created her own intricate patterns of grace. Her slender body bent like a reed in the wind, soar up like a light petal. Her soul spread wide like the wings of a butterfly.

The guests watched her spellbound, unable to take eyes off that snow-white flower. Their burning glances could easily make any other girl blush with shame, but not her. She was obedient to the music only. She did not dare break its blessed rite. The music was filling the air – and it was calling out her name, over and over again, carrying her thoughts along with the breathtaking flow of voices.

Struck by her beauty, the court poet quickly started a new poem right on the silk napkin. The smoke wisps rising up from the incense burners near seats of important ministers already created a web of intrigues over the girl`s head. And the passion in the king`s heart was burning brighter than the sun with her every gesture.

She was dancing until the very last chord. Her eyes shut tight and her heart beating so fast that she could barely tell the difference between the reality and long- forgotten dreams. She was dancing like a snow-white swan, balancing on the perfectly-thin blade of beauty.